


Bella notte

by notnatural



Series: Knocking on your door [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Happy Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Light Angst, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Neck Kissing, Second Date, alec sees magnus' eyes and ends up on the kitchen counter it's great, canon universe but a lil happier, god just let them be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9482087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notnatural/pseuds/notnatural
Summary: There’s a pot with water on the stove and closed cupboards under the counter tops. Alec wants to say a million things, to comment on the smell of tomato and something sharp in the air or to offer Magnus his help but instead“I didn’t know you had a kitchen?”He might actually start taking lessons on social skills.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a section from my 'as chaos reigned' thing I decided to take out. does this happen after or before or in between that who knows I don't know I know nothing. worth to note that this is literally more than half the length of that fic, I invented 'this got out of hand'. feel free to yell at me for any spelling mistakes. love.

Magnus’s apartment is _big_ Alec realizes somewhere between the end of the world and now.

It has unnecessarily high ceilings and most of its walls are bare, hallways stretching out and cutting off. Alec doesn’t know exactly how many rooms there are but he thinks there’s probably some serious manipulation with the laws of physics involved. He wonders if that’s legal and secretly hopes it’s not, just for the liberty of it. He might have read something about a tax on construction magic once.  It’s not important.

One day, Magnus proves Alec’s initial allegations about his culinary skills wrong. Alec feels better, lighter than he has since Jace’s disappearance and after spending a day at Izzy’s shoulder, reading reports and pretending not to listen in on mission planning, he texts Magnus. Just texts him, something casual and easy and so normal it feels not quite real, tapping the screen to send the text. Magnus responds with ordinary extravaganza, a redundancy of punctuation and pet names and something about Italian food. Alec just pockets his phone and smiles at the air.

 

The invisibility rune burns on his shoulder and his hair is blown back from his forehead when he reaches Magnus’s apartment and presses the Bane button. There’s a soft click and Magnus’s voice comes out, scratchy and a put-upon offended.

“You know, the point with texting in advance is convenient as it gives me, your gracious host, time to prepare. If you’re just going to take advantage of your superior shadowhunter everything, you might as well give me the day off.”

Alec grimaces a little, apologetic.

“I can go again and come back? If you like?” He says and he’s completely genuine but Magnus scoffs at the idea and there’s a buzz. Alec pushes the door open and blinks in the dim light of the entrance hall. The paint-jobs are poor and flaking off the wall and the bannister but there’s something inviting about knowing what’s at the end of the staircase. He takes it in long strides and stops in front of the door, his hand hovering in front of him while he considers whether he should knock or go for the door knob.

The door springs open before him then and he’s bathed in yellow light. There’s no Magnus but his voice is there with an amplified “Enter!” that might be a bit too dramatic, but it’s nice knowing he’s welcome. This time, there’s a lot of red going on, heavy curtains draped from either side of the windows along the wall. Alec scuffles a bit, uncertain when Magnus isn’t here to point or flourish in a direction for him to head in when said flourish happens down the hallway to his right, popping his head out of an open doorway. Magnus is wearing a faded white apron on top of a dark-curry shirt in shimmery fabric and Alec is immediately delighted for some reason as he’s drawn towards Magnus.

Magnus smiles at him, one hand - no rings and bare nails - curled around the door frame and the other stretched out in a wave.

“Despite the fact that you’re way too early and that you won’t be dazzled by my inexplicable ways of always being ready for any occasion I’m happy to see you, Alexander. Come in, please.” Magnus slides back into the room he came from and Alec ducks around the door frame.

It’s small and sort of cramped, nothing like Alec would have thought Magnus to approve of. There are high counters along two of the walls, cluttered with cutting boards and already used ingredients. There’s a pot with water on the stove and closed cupboards under the counter tops. Alec wants to say a million things, to comment on the smell of tomato and something sharp in the air or to offer Magnus his help but instead -

“I didn’t know you had a kitchen?”

He might actually start taking lessons on social skills.

Magnus is standing with his back to him, turning the handle of a saucepan away from himself. He smiles at Alec over his shoulder in the middle of a shrug.

“I didn’t, really. It was a last minute decision. Take a seat, please.” Half in a daze brought on by the realization that Magnus possibly conjured up a kitchen for him, Alec gravitates towards the third wall, where a small square table and two wooden chairs are pushed against it. He sinks down on the plush seat and leans back. What was that passage about construction magic? He honestly doesn’t remember.

Magnus has started humming under his breath and is now drizzling oil in the saucepan with one hand and turning on a burner on the stove with another. Alec feels something warm and fluttery in his stomach and it doesn’t really feel like happiness, not even the superficial kind he can barely allow himself to feel these days. It’s nervous and exciting. Following Magnus around the kitchen with his eyes, Alec thinks that he’s never been happier to be early. Magnus scrapes capers and something that probably used to be tomatoes into the pan and stirs with a wooden spoon, standing on his toes to lean over it. It’s endearing.

There’s so much Alec wants to ask so he settles on the food.

"What are we eating?" He asks and Magnus hums, happy with the question.

"Jamie just calls it tomato and caper linguine. It's a lovely recipe, very simple."

Alec nods, mind stuck.

"Jamie?"

"Oliver."

"Oliver?"

Magnus turns his head slowly, while fumbling for a lemon on the counter. His eyes are narrowed, like he's trying to figure out whether or not Alec is joking.

"Jamie Oliver." He repeats slowly and Alec stops then and fits the name together. Right. Definitely some connotations to food and mundane culture there, somewhere. He nods again, says 'riiiiight' and then a bit more final, so Magnus will stop staring at him.

Magnus does stop staring, with a final disbelieving twist of his head, and turns back to the counter. He starts running the lemon over a grater, letting barely there bits of the zest sprinkle over the saucepan and the scent of it is so sudden that Alec's mouth actually waters. Magnus turns his back to him completely and the light, jabbing motions make the muscles jump under his skin and it's so obvious and not at all made better by the shimmery fabric of his shirt. Alec breathes through his nose and hopes Magnus just think he's wallowing in the scent. He could be. He could be.

"Is that how you learned to cook? By a mundane?" There's nothing intentionally toxic about the way he says the word. Alec might not be without prejudice, but he can respect craftsmanship of any kind. However, there is a whole lot of faux reprimanding in Magnus' eyes when he turns to look over his shoulder. He's flirty and daring in the way he was when they met and it's so much nicer when they're alone, Alec finds.

"You should know, Alexander." he says, placing the grater and the used cutting boards in the sink. He leans against the counter and looks at Alec with lowered eyes. "That mundanes are very innovative entrepreneurs. You'd be surprised at how much you can learn from them." Once again, Alec doesn't know how to react. He can't make sense of the relatively serious context of Magnus' words contra the playfulness in his voice and the way his lips curl. He settles on raising his hands, defeated.

"I didn't - I'm sure you're right."

Magnus just looks satisfied. He moves the pot off the burner and drains the water, before tipping the pasta into the saucepan. With a dish towel he conjures out of wherever closest, he wipes down the surfaces and slings it to rest over his neck. Then with a distinctive dainty way to it, one that's very Magnus, he lifts himself up on the countertop, so he can tend to the sauce pan, steaming, while looking at Alec. Alec smiles without meaning and looks down.

“But I wouldn’t know really.” Magnus says, absently. “I suppose it’s something I’ve picked up along the way. What about you?” Alec blinks. Magnus never cuts a story short but - he supposes -  a life story is different than an adventure. He leans back. Presses his thumb against the tabletop, hard.

“About me and food?” He asks and looks up to find Magnus nodding. His eyes are soft, everything about Magnus is either soft or razor sharp, these days. Alec shrugs and looks back down at his finger.

“We didn’t - no, I guess my father did teach me something. European shadowhunters are all for multiculturalism and alternative practises and being the future head of such a _capital institute_ I suppose he wanted me to be educated in things like that. But then I grew older and my parents went off and I had an institute to run and - Jace is the real talent, I mean. His upbringing gave him all sorts of talents you know. Singing and playing the piano and _cooking_ too, it was - “ Alec cuts himself off and takes the pressure off his thumb, so blood can rush back under the nail.

His mouth is open, stray thoughts half-way to completion flickering out with his breath. Somehow, he made his endpoint around Jace again. Silently frustrated, he grapples for a way to tie up the loose ends and comes up empty-handed. Magnus doesn’t save him, of course, because Magnus is so infinitely observant and Magnus knows when he’s needed. Magnus is looking down in the sauce pan and folding the pasta over in the tomato sauce. Alec sighs.

“I don’t know. I don’t really know.” Magnus hums and looks up, eyes bright.

“We’ll find him.” He says.

There’s quiet for a moment, save for the sound of the chimney hood and Alec finds Magnus a little bit breath-taking, in the middle of it all. Between wooden furniture and street lamps and prejudice and hatred and then there’s Magnus, _eternal._ A little bit breath-taking.

Alec believes him.

Magnus breaks eye-contact to look down in the sauce pan again and Alec almost feels the little pull in his chest, the petulant and contradictory want he has for Magnus’s undivided attention. The moment is broken for now though and Magnus hums excitedly, letting himself glide down from the counter top.

“Dinner’s ready.” He says and Alec slides out of his chair.

“Where are the plates?” He asks, determined to be helpful. Magnus is standing with his hands raised in mid-air, rubbing his fingers together in little circles. His eyes flit over the closed cupboards and he shrugs.

“Let’s find out.”

 

 

Magnus’s newly conjured dining sets are mismatched and _odd_ , varying in shape and size and color. He keeps making sounds of utter outrage as they open cupboard after cupboard and Alec’s lips are twitching, almost uncontrollably, as he himself at last decides on two flat bowls to place on the table, one with a bright green inside and the other with complex, swirling patterns along the rim.

“Let me change them-” Magnus asks, his outstretched fingers glowing, suddenly - and while Alec is something close to desperately wishing to see more of his magic, he finds himself shaking his head.

“It’s fine, it’s good, it’s - it’s very you.” He places the cutlery on the table as well, red and green and silver handles in wood and ebony. The glasses that follow are Magnus’ own from before - those meant for red wine, Alec has learned. “You can learn a lot from the mundane way, I guess.” Magnus smiles then and Alec feels like there’s something brimming over in his chest. He sits down.

 

 

“Carignan.” Magnus says, as he pours their wine, first for Alec, them himself. He says it’s spanish-slash-french and calls it medium-bodied like that has any matter at all to Alec’s ears. The food is good, not particularly wild but it’s still tangy enough to make Alec’s teeth water at the flavor. He wonders when the appropriate time to compliment the chef would be and settles on not right now - settles on humming around his fork for now and hoping Magnus doesn’t find him rude.

Magnus doesn’t seem to notice, though - he’s smiling at Alec, head tilted slightly forward so he’s looking up at him somehow, through his eyelashes and across the table. Alec’s quirks an eyebrow and it’s an automatic, flippant gesture, a _can-I-help-you_ , that has Magnus raising both his in return.

“I hope you enjoy your food, Alexander.” He says. Alec just mirrors Magnus’ expression, swallows and takes a sip of his wine. Magnus’ eyes are crinkling at the corners now, squinting with something like a challenge. Which is fine. It’s fine.

 

 

Alec really likes talking to Magnus. Sometimes Magnus makes him stutter and forget his conjunctions and breathing reflexes, but mostly, by now, talking to Magnus is just nice. It feels like breathing out after a winded sentence, even when he’s not the one talking. When Magnus is, Alec is almost a bit overwhelmed by how fascinating he is. In more than one way - there’s something unreal and timeless over Magnus, his magic and his stories and the mystery of what someone becomes after four hundred years of being. Sometimes his voice dips and smooths over certain patches of storytelling and it breaks Alec heart a little - for Magnus maybe, or for himself.

But Magnus is still endlessly interesting when he talks about shopping. He’s still fascinating when he talks about his cat and about travelling and food and fashion - maybe, Alec reflects, especially when he talks about fashion. He’s captivating when he talks about people, about parties, friends - he mentions Catarina, says _I can’t wait for you to meet her_ and Alec loses his mind a little.

Then he mentions Ragnor and his voice slows down.

Usually, when Magnus talks about friends and lovers long gone, there’s certainly melancholy in his voice but fondness too, a resigned sadness that surely must be from years of experience with heartbreak - at Ragnor’s name there’s nothing but grief. Alec feels like they can share this -  this over-shadowing pain of losing what feels like your everything but he knows, even as watches Magnus, that despite the parabatai bond, despite what Shadowhunter lore says about that indisputable connection, holier than life itself nothing can possibly hurt more can losing your oldest friend who you always thought would share eternity with you. He breathes in and prays for a sudden skill of eloquence in the few seconds he feels he has to save their dinner. When nothing comes, he reaches over to rest his fingers on Magnus’ hand, a closed fist against the table.

His fingers slide over Magnus’ knuckles and over the back of his hand where the skin is stretched tight over bones. Soon enough, Magnus loosens the hold on himself and Alec can see the blood rush back, the knuckles colored darker again. He looks up to see Magnus looking at _him_ and there’s a smile on his lips, a little confused maybe, but mostly happy - Alec would like to think so anyway.

 

“I - I wish I could’ve met him. Ragnor.” He says and when Magnus doesn’t answer, when Magnus looks down and away, he tries something else, takes three steps back.

“But you’re right. I have to meet Catarina.” It’s better. Magnus hums in a way that could sound like the beginning of a laugh. “She sounds kind of amazing.” Magnus twists his wrist then, so his hand is flat on the table and Alec can run fingers along the lines of his palm.

“She is. Imagine having blue skin and deciding to surround yourself with mundanes just to be helpful. She has always been quite the eccentric.” Alec grins and looks down at their hands. Magnus’ fingers twitch against his wrist every now and then. It’s simultaneously the most intimate Alec has ever been with another person and the easiest thing he’s ever done.

“You’re wondering about it, aren’t you?” Magnus says and Alec looks up, eyebrows arched. “About my warlock mark.”

Alec is surprised and a little pleased to know that for once, Magnus couldn’t see through him. He’s also a little embarrassed that he was thinking about Magnus’ hands but that’s not something anyone needs to know.

He shrugs.

“I didn’t want to ask you. I know - “ he’s about to say that he knows it’s rude to openly stare at a warlock’s mark, but all he knows has been from Shadowhunter lore which has proven to be outrageously biased anyway, so he changes his mind. “I don’t know how you - feel. It’s not important. For me, I mean. I mean, I want to see it, obviously, but not - not if it’s, like, a thing for you, like, you don’t have to. But I would, I mean, it’s not - “

It doesn’t happen like a glamour drop, like peeling away a layer of alternate reality to look into the actual world. It happens slowly, _so_ slowly like Magnus’ eyes are being emptied of something, of brown and dark green, and then Alec is staring into them, mouth open and completely lost for words.

“ _Oh_.” He says.

It’s like they’re burning. Warm and golden, they make sense - of course he looks like this, of course he’s this bright, this noble. The color looks alive and Alec only has to humor himself a little bit to be convinced he can see swirls of movement behind the iris, like Magnus’ eyes are something liquid and alive, like lava, like molten gold. His fingers have slowed to a stop on Magnus’ palm and he can feel himself pressing them into the skin, can feel Magnus’ fingers curl up against his own while nothing exists other than _contact._

“Alexander,” Magnus says. Alec realizes his mouth is still open and he snaps it shut, forces himself to pay attention. Magnus looks - he doesn’t look insecure, he doesn’t look anything. His face is carefully set, it seems, like he’s waiting for the verdict. In Alec’s mind, everything is vague and uncontrollable, a bit fuzzy. He can’t make his tongue work and his jaw keeps tensing up and he wants to spell out the all the synonyms for ‘beautiful’ in all the languages he can find, but he _can’t_ , because words, like they tend to do, are failing him.

So he leans over the table, almost gets up to keep his balance, and kisses Magnus.

Magnus’ lips are warm under his and his skin jitters with each passing second of silence before he feels them move and it’s a whole different kind of fire. Magnus kisses him back, actually intertwining their fingers this time and breathes out through his nose. His other hand comes up to rest against Alec’s face and he squeezes Alec’s with the other.

“Get up.” He says and Alec slides out and away from the table at once. They meet in the middle of the kitchen and Magnus’ eyes are still golden, still alive, still liquid and the breath that gets punched out of Alec’s lungs get lost somewhere between their lips. Magnus’ hands find his waist and he can feel his skin grow hot, his breath coming quicker, his footstand not nearly as steadfast as it should be.

As if on cue, Magnus pushes against him with a bit more force until Alec walks back, feeling his lower back hit the counter top. He relaxes against it, sliding down a little so his back curves and legs fall open - and Magnus just presses closer to him, a warm, solid weight leaning against his chest. He can feel his hands through his shirt and his tongue on his upper lip and when Alec breathes again it comes out as something like a whine. It’s a bit too much, a bit too hot. It feels like an assault, the warmth inside Magnus’ mouth, the fire it leaves on his skin. Magnus keeps pressing closer and pulling away. Angling Alec’s head with his fingers, licking into his mouth and then breaking the kiss to twist his head or to _look_ and Alec can’t decide what he wants the most.

Magnus pulls away then, but instead of his mouth, his eyes skip between Alec’s and a place on his neck, once and twice and three times before he hums, ducks his head and places an open-mouthed kiss on Alec’s deflect rune.

There’s something electric in Alec’s blood now, something that feels like a high as Magnus presses kisses into his skin. Soft ones and wet ones and quick ones that feel like teeth and tongue. Magnus hand is folded around the back of his neck and if Alec wasn’t losing his mind there’d be something oddly sweet about the way it makes him feel taken care of. For now though, his legs are shivering and he’s got one hand gripping the countertop like a life-line. He didn’t know that ‘knees buckling’ was something that actually happened in situations like these but he’s learning, anyway.

“Wait.” He says, like a sudden idea. Magnus’ eyes are back on him in an instant, wild and maybe a little concerned. Alec notices, apropos of nothing, the way his pupils have dilated, blown wide. It feels nice, a bit like acknowledgement.

With a hand on Magnus’ chest and the other behind him, he lifts himself up on the counter, raising him a bit further up than Magnus. For a while none of them say anything. Magnus looks dumbfounded, speechless and it’s such a drastic change from his usually flawless facade that Alec can’t even think of what to say before Magnus reacts. And judging by the way he reacts, eyes darkening, his hands going to Alec’s thighs like it’s a second nature, curling around them and pulling until he can press against him making Alec choke on his breath, judging by that, it was the right move.

Magnus hesitates though, doesn’t kiss him even as Alec’s eyes are plastered to his lips.

“Will you stay the night?” He asks and _now_ he looks insecure. Alec looks up then, at golden eyes and the way they shine, at the way Magnus’ is looking at him like _he’s_ the beautiful one, like _he’s_ the glory, like _he’s_ the eternity and the shooting stars, like _he’s_ the angel with fire in his eyes and Alec almost laughs at the idea that he could be anywhere else but with Magnus right now.

He nods, then whispers _yes, yes, yes_ against Magnus’ lips, because it feels good to say. Magnus’ eyes are burning at him - Alec burns with them.


End file.
